Cheyenne McCray - Point Blank (Lawmen Book 4) (30 page)

Heat flared through her, replacing the cold. She grasped the doorknob and jerked the door open. It slammed against the shower’s glass wall. “Yeah, you damned sure should have. You’ve been fucking me to get information because you thought or think that I’m guilty in this whole damned mess.”

The word “fucking” sounded harsh as she flung it out between them, but it was accurate. That’s what he’d been doing, fucking her.

“Dammit, Natasha.” He put his hand on her bare arm. “Listen to me.”

“Fuck you.” She yanked her arm away from his touch. “I don’t want to talk to you now. Not ever.”

He gave her a long look that she couldn’t read.

“Get out.”
She barely kept from screaming the words.

He blew out his breath and turned away. She watched as he pulled on his discarded jeans. “I’m sorry. I—”

She slammed the door shut again and knew next time she opened the door he would be gone.

~~*~~

Brooks stared at the closed bathroom door. He wanted to tear the damn thing off its hinges and force her to listen to him. It was clear she wasn’t ready to hear a thing he said. He’d have to let her cool off and then he would make her listen.

He’d fucked up and good. He should have told her sooner, but he hadn’t known how to do it. While they were in L.A., he’d started to tell her more than once, but it had never seemed like the right time.

How did a man tell a woman he’d fallen in love with that she’d been his assignment?

He scooped up his T-shirt and tugged it over his head before he grabbed his shoulder holster, slipped it on, and fastened it. He slid his belt through the loops on his jeans, then picked his phone up off the nightstand and shoved it into the holster on the belt.

After he finished dressing, he settled his Stetson on his head, strode from the bedroom to the back door, and let himself out.

The air cooled his skin the moment he stepped onto the landing of the wood stairs leading down to the ground. It was cold this morning, or maybe it was because he’d lost Natasha’s warmth.

Chills rolled down his arms and his gut twisted. A sense of unease came over him as if something bad was about to happen. He rolled his shoulders, trying to get rid of the feeling.

It was probably due to leaving Natasha on such a bad note before he and the team Sofia had put together went to Okle’s home and warehouse with the search warrant. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shrug off the sensations.

Even though he was leaving, the last thing he was going to do was let her go out with no one keeping an eye on her to make sure she was safe.

He un-holstered his cell phone and located Jase’s number. “I need someone to watch over Natasha,” Brooks said as soon as Jase answered.

“I’ll head on over,” Jase said. “Her home or business?”

Brooks glanced at the door he’d just closed. Natasha was inside, hurt and alone, and it made him sick to his stomach knowing he’d caused her to feel that way. “She’s home. You have her address?”

“I’ve got it right here. It’s in her file on my tablet.” Jase had a frown in his voice. “What’s going on?”

Brooks started down the steps. “I’ve just got a bad feeling.”

“Trust your gut.” Sirens were in the background and Jase spoke louder. “I’m in Douglas. I can make it to her house in thirty minutes.”

Brooks reached the concrete pad at the bottom of the old staircase. “I’ll stay until you get here.”

After Brooks ended the call, he made his way to his truck, going the same route he’d been taking every day since he’d started staying at Natasha’s. This was the first time he’d left feeling like something was desperately wrong.

Something
was
wrong. He’d hurt the woman he loved.

He reached his truck, unlocked it, and climbed in after tossing his hat on the passenger seat. With the narrow streets, it was difficult to park where he could get a good vantage point to watch Natasha’s home and the man Okle had on her today. He drove the truck down the hill and pulled to the side the best he could to allow vehicles to pass.

Twenty minutes passed, and Natasha hadn’t left her home.

His phone vibrated in its holster, and he pulled it out and checked the screen. Sofia.

“Get your ass to Okle’s home.” Sofia said as soon as Brooks answered. “We have reports of activity and we need you there with the rest of the team.”

As she spoke, the man watching Natasha’s home started his car and pulled into the area where Natasha parked. He used the area to turn his vehicle around and was back on the street and headed away from her house.

Brooks blew out a breath. She’d be fine now that the bastard wasn’t watching her. Likely it had something to do with whatever was going on at Okle’s.

“How close are you to Okle’s?” Sofia was asking.

Brooks started his truck and drove down the hill. “Fifteen minutes.”

“Make it ten.” Sofia disconnected the call.

Brooks couldn’t get himself to leave Natasha alone. He called Jase.

“ETA?” he asked when Jase answered.

“Five minutes,” Jase said. “Just passed the Lavender Pit.”

Five minutes. She’d be fine for the few minutes difference between the time Brooks left to when Jase would arrive.

Brooks thanked Jase before he disconnected the call. He switched on his flashers and siren, and headed away from Natasha’s home, hell bent for leather to get to Okle’s and take the man down once and for all.

When the back door closed, Brooks took a part of her with him.

Natasha left her bathroom, walked across the floor nude, and searched for something to wear in her lingerie drawer. Her entire body ached, as if everything was broken and not just her heart.

He’s been using me.

No matter how many times the thought came to her, she still couldn’t quite comprehend it. Everything that had happened between them had been a lie. Or, at the very least, built on a foundation of lies.

She grabbed a set of undergarments and sat on the bed instead of putting them on. She had to think of this logically. Maybe he really did care for her now, but maybe not. Was his getting close to her for his job something that was forgivable? They’d gone to bed together not long after they’d met. Had he just been fucking her because it was part of his job?

Was he such a good actor that he could fake the emotion she was certain she’d seen in his eyes? She supposed he didn’t have to be an actor. Undercover agents faked everything they did when they infiltrated gangs, cartels, mafias, or other shady organizations. Had the Feds thought she was a threat because she had associated with Mark?

She could see how she looked guilty by association and because she had been selling Mark’s illegal drugs. They wouldn’t know it was without her knowledge, and her fingerprints were likely all over a great deal of what had been sold. Could she forgive Brooks’s suspicions?

Maybe. What she
couldn’t
forgive was the fact that Brooks had taken things to this point not only sexually but also emotionally—and he’d done it without telling her the truth.

It hurt so much that she felt like her chest was being crushed and she could hardly breathe. What he’d done—it wasn’t something she could easily let go of.

Her throat felt as if something hard and large was lodged inside, and she held her hand to her bare chest, over her heart. She took a deep breath, let it out, and then grabbed the underwear sitting on the bed beside her.

Over the past week, she’d thought that just maybe he would help her out of this mess. She had grown to count on him. Now she didn’t know what to think.

She paused for a moment and her skin prickled.

Maybe it was time to take care of things herself.

It was time for all of this to end before someone she loved died.

She slipped on the bright pink panties and matching bra she’d taken out of her lingerie drawer. She wasn’t in a bright mood, but everything she owned was colorful and cheerful. Black lingerie had never been on her shopping list, but she wished it had. It would better go with her mood.

Everything that had happened whirled around in her mind and she had a hard time focusing on this one important thing that had happened. There were too many important things happening.

She walked to her dresser with the big vanity mirror. She didn’t look at her reflection, certain her face would be pale with black circles under her eyes.

Her heart ached as she reached for the crystal butterfly Brooks had given her. She held it up and turned it around, watching sparkles dance from each facet. Would he have given her the butterfly if he didn’t care? It had been so touching—he had noticed her love for butterflies and the gift had tugged at her heart.

She clenched her hand around the butterfly and gritted her teeth, tempted to throw it across the room so it smashed against the wall and shattered into a thousand pieces.

Like her heart.

For a moment she gripped the butterfly before placing it hard enough on her dresser for it to make a loud
thunk
, but not break.

As she stood there, what she needed to do now became crystal clear. Everything came into sharp focus and the question she had asked herself over and over again had been the right question. Desperation had given her the only possible answer.

She picked out a pair of worn, comfortable jeans, along with royal blue Keds. A plain top was harder to find, and she had to dig in a drawer of old T-shirts until she found a black one with
Zombie Apocalypse First Responder Team
in red lettering on the front. She’d had it for years—Uncle Dexter had given it to her as a joke when she started working as a dispatcher for the police department. She couldn’t bear to part with anything he’d given her, so it had been with the rest of her T-shirts since he passed away.

Her hair had dried and she brushed it out and braided it tightly to keep it out of her face. She didn’t need any distractions.

The small Sig Sauer that Brooks had given her, before she worked the tradeshow in L.A., rested in the top drawer of her nightstand. She’d felt safe with him there, so she hadn’t left it out. She took the Sig and checked the magazine, not fully trusting Brooks. For all she knew he could have emptied it since he hadn’t wanted to let her use it in the first place.

The magazine was full and she shoved it back in place. She chambered a round before making sure the safety was on. She intended to be ready.

Since she didn’t have a holster, she found a small cross-body purse and slipped it over her head and shoulder before sliding the gun inside. She dropped her car and house keys inside the purse, along with her driver’s license—if this went bad, they might need it to identify her body.

Yes, she would die for her family and friends.

And if she was successful, she was prepared to face the consequences of premeditated murder. She would go to jail for the rest of her life to save the lives of so many others.

It would be worth it.

She didn’t bother with a jacket because she didn’t want to wear anything cumbersome. She shivered from the cold air that swirled over the threshold when she opened the kitchen door. Goose bumps rolled over her bare arms.

She looked at the parking lot above the steep concrete stairs and saw the front bumper of her Beetle. Was someone parked on the street above, watching her? If someone was still keeping an eye on her, likely he would follow her to Okle’s warehouse.

Let him.

For a moment she wished Brooks was with her and she felt the traitorous ache of her love for him. Was it possible to get past the lies?

She closed the kitchen door behind her and locked it. She ground her teeth, forcing herself to remember her anger and the fact that he’d used her.

Those thoughts calmed her desire to forgive him considerably. Thinking about it also pissed her off all over again and she rolled her shoulders to try to relieve some of the tension that instantly gripped her.

The stairs had never concerned her, but as she climbed them, it felt like there were twice as many steps and it was twice as steep. She made it to the top and scanned the area. No cars on the street. The only other vehicle belonged to Mr. McMahon, the old man who lived in the house next door.

She hurried to climb into her car, but didn’t take the purse off before she buckled in. The Beetle didn’t make much sound when she started it, and then she drove it out of the parking lot and onto the street.

The warehouse would be the first place to start—it was where she had met with Mark on a few previous occasions. She had never been to his home, but didn’t think she’d have a problem locating his address if she needed to.

Her intuition told her he was at the warehouse, and she always trusted her intuition.

That was when she
listened
to it and didn’t ignore what her senses were trying to tell her. The times she ignored it tended to be the times she’d end up in one mishap or another.

She didn’t see any vehicles parked where there shouldn’t be any as she guided the Beetle down the hill. Once she felt comfortable that no one was following her, she drove toward Okle’s warehouse. It was on the south side of the sprawling town of Bisbee that was broken up into smaller satellite communities. His warehouse was in an area farther south of the community of San Jose.

The time it took to drive from Old Bisbee to San Jose gave Natasha enough time to prepare mentally, to think through what she was about to do. As far as she was concerned, she had set the course and nothing would stop her. Going back and changing her mind was not an option.

She reached the warehouse, but passed it and parked a ways down the road where it couldn’t be easily seen. She climbed out, stuffed the keys into her purse, and headed back to the warehouse.

Even if someone did spot her, Mark had no idea what she planned to do, so she still had the element of surprise.

Gravel crunched under her shoes as she walked into nearly empty parking lot. Why wasn’t it as full as it had been on previous visits? It was Monday. Shouldn’t his employees be here?

She ignored the chill in the air. She settled her palm on her purse for a moment, feeling the comfortable bulk of the Sig Sauer. She hoped she wasn’t too rusty—she hadn’t been able to practice like she’d wanted to. Mark would have suspected something if she had been followed to a shooting range or a place in the desert where she could set up cans and shoot them. She unzipped the purse so that she could easily grab the weapon.